


Hands Off

by Reiya_Wakayama



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Girl!Stiles, Hurt!Derek, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Pregnant!Stiles, Protective!Derek, Protective!Stiles, Superwolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one messes with what is hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to see this happen. Momma Stiles would be like “Oh hell no, you did not just shoot my hubby. You will pay for that.”

The woods are silent around them as they run through the trees, guns held close and eyes scanning for any sign of movement. They’ve been chasing the creature for a while now. It’s wounded, they know that much, but even wounded, the beast is fast.

“Dean, wait,” Sam says, grabbing his brother’s arms and pulling him to a stop. “Do you hear that?” he asks softly.

They pause and listen and can just make out the ragged breathing of something big. Dean nods to the right silently and they creep forward. It comes into view, clawed hand pressed against its chest as blood seeps between its fingers.

Its white Henley isn’t white anymore. Piercing red eyes stare up at them in a heated glare, teeth gnashing at them in anger and fear as they step closer. “Easy Sam, no need to get too close,” Dean says as Sam takes a step closer.

They’re just lifting their shotguns to shoot when the unmistakable sound of someone cocking their own gun sounds behind them. “You’ll step the fuck away from him, or I’m blowing your brains out,” a woman’s voice sounds behind them.

Sam and Dean hold their hands and guns up, turning slowly. They can only stare at the sight before them. The woman is tiny, her feet bare and dirty and her brown hair chopped short. It’s obvious she’s pregnant, her stomach round and protruding and she glares at them with a cold hatred, golden eyes hard as steel.

“Move away from him and throw all your weapons over there,” she motions towards the other side of the small path they’re on. They do as directed, tossing their guns to the side.

“Stiles,” the thing grits out eyes never leaving the woman.

“Not now, Sourwolf, momma’s saving your ass again,” the woman, Stiles says, not looking away from the two of them.

“Look lady, we don’t want any trouble. It’s just, we’re hunters and we hunt shit like him. It’s the family business,” Dean says, trying to placate the woman.

“I know what the fuck you are. You’re not the first pair of hunters to come waltzing in here thinking they could make an easy kill. But you will keep your filthy hands off my husband. Kapish?” Stiles says.

“Wait a minute, your husband?” Sam glances between Stiles and the thing behind her where she’s slowly placed herself between them. The creature’s face has smoothed out, face human except for the still red eyes. Eyes which have still not left Stiles.

“Stiles,” the thing says softly.

“Not now Derek,” she says.

“Stiles, your water broke,” he says evenly.

“No shit Sherlock, it broke about ten minutes back. Now is not the time to be interrupting me when I’m trying to keep you alive,” she says.

Sam takes a closer look at her and can see sweat beading on her forehead, her pupils huge even though it is really bright out. “You’re going into labor?” Sam says, shocked that Stiles is still on her feet, let alone wielding a gun at them.

“Why is this suddenly a topic of choice?” she asks.

“What do you mean labor?” Dean asks and it’s funny how his voice squeaks on “labor” as he glances between Sam and Stiles.

Sam watches as a wince crosses Stiles’ face, no doubt the adrenalin that kept her moving before is now wearing off. “Shit,” she curses and her hand clutches at her stomach, panting heavily through a contraction.

“Damn it Derek, your kid could have picked a better time to come,” Stiles hisses. Before both hunters can even blink, Derek is rushing forward as Stiles’ legs give out, holding her as they settle on the ground.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Derek is saying but Stiles ignores him.

She’s still staring at the two hunters, gun still trained. “He is not evil. He has not hurt anyone except in self-defense. We, we protect this town. Talk to the Argents, we have a truce between us. He’s…he’s…fuck,” she grits out as another contraction hits.

“All right,” Dean says softly, stepping back. “Go, take her to the hospital. Sam, we need to speak with this Argent guy,” Dean says.

Derek looks grateful and scoops Stiles up in his arms, carrying her at a run through the trees away from them. "We’ll, that was odd,” Sam says, walking over to pick up their guns.

“No one will ever know that we got held up by a pregnant woman,” Dean says with a look at Sam. Sam just snorts and the two brothers start walking back to where they parked their car.

**End.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the first part. Sam and Dean meet up with Chris Argent and learn a thing or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't really planned on making a sequel, but here it is anyways. Enjoy.

It’s not hard to find the name Argent in the phone book. There are two: Chris Argent and Allison Argent. A quick look up shows them just off of Roe Drive, not too far from the internet café they’ve holed up in.

Getting their coffee to go, they drive over, parking on the side of the street and glancing up at the cookie cutter home. It certainly doesn’t look like the home of a hunter, but who are they to judge. They live in their car or cheap motels half the time.

Walking up to the door, Sam rings the bell, subtly checking his gun as they wait for the door to open. It’s not long before the door opens and a young woman is staring out at them, dark hair pulled back in a braid and dark eyes eying them up suspiciously.

“Can I help you?” she asks, not letting the door open more than a foot.

“We’re looking for Chris Argent, does he live here?” Dean asks.

“It depends on what you want my father for?” she asks.

“Questions on hunting techniques,” Dean says with an easy grin.

She gives an annoyed huff but opens the door a little wider. “Look, he doesn’t hunt anymore, at least not actively. So whatever job you want him for, the answer is no,” she says with bite.

“Allison, I can speak for myself you know,” a man says behind her and the door opens to reveal an older man, in his mid to late forties with close cut blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What can I help you with?” he asks.

“It’s not a job offer. We just need to ask a couple questions,” Sam says. “Can we come in?”

Argent shrugs and opens the door all the way. “Might as well. Allison, get us some beers will you?” he asks the girl and she huffs but does as asked.

They take a seat in the living room, Allison setting the beers in front of them as she holds onto a can of coke. “All right, ask,” Chris says, opening his beer and taking a swig.

“What can you tell us about the local supernaturals around here?” Sam asks, opening his own beer but not drinking from it.

“Depends. There’s been a lot of shit happening here lately, but if this is about the local werewolf pack, then I can say there is no need for you to go after them. I have a truce with them. They help protect this town and don’t kill anyone, I don’t kill them. Why the sudden interest?” he asks, leaning forward slightly with a frown.

“Wait a minute, that guy was a werewolf?” Dean asks, jerking forward. “He didn’t look like any werewolf I’ve ever seen.”

“There’s something you should know about my family. We have been hunter werewolves since before we emigrated over here from France, generations before you were even born. We’ve learned a lot about werewolves and one thing we know for sure, there is more than one species of wolf,” Chris says.

“Actually, that would make sense,” Sam says. “Animals always change to adapt to their environment. It seems reasonable that werewolves would change over the years when they came here,” Sam says, stopping his brother from starting an argument.

“So that was a werewolf?” Dean says instead, glaring at his brother.

“I take it you ran into one out in the woods then,” Chris says.

“Yeah, big muscly guy with red eyes,” Dean nods.

“That would be Derek Hale, the Alpha of the local pack,” Chris says, taking another sip of his beer.

“And someone else,” Sam admits.

Chris arches a brow at Sam. “A woman, said she was his husband. Held us at gun point,” Sam says, ignoring Dean’s of indignation at revealing their non-manly moment. Argent’s frown deepens, the hand on his beer tightening around the bottle’s neck with a squeak and then relaxes as Sam continues. He snorts at the mental image of what they described.

“And that would be Stiles, his mate and Alpha female of the pack, human of course,” Chris says.

“Did anything happen?” Chris asks.

“Not really, she held us at gun point and said he wasn’t evil and then started to go into labor,” Sam says.

“Stiles is in labor?” Allison asks, jumping up, eyes wide. Before either of them can say a word, she whips her phone out, pressing a number on speed dial. “Scott? It’s me, listen, Stiles is in labor. Call the Sheriff and get him over there. You know Stiles. She’ll be too busy yelling at Derek about killing him to remember to call him. I’ll text the others.” Allison hangs up and starts texting furiously, walking out of the room.

“The Sheriff?” Sam asks.

“Her father,” Chris says with a shrug.

“Does he know about all…this?” Sam asks.

“He knows,” is all Chris says.

“Dad, come on, we’ll meet the others there,” Allison says, coming back into the room after she ran out to get her things.

“If you have any more questions, you can follow, or wait until later, but we have a more pressing matter to see to,” Chris says, standing and leaving his beer on the table.

“We’ll follow. You can tell us about those other problems you’ve been having,” Dean finally says, standing as well.

“All right, it’s settled. Come on,” Allison says, barging out the door. Chris chuckles and follows his daughter out of the house.

~*~

The first thing they hear as they near is Stiles’ yells. “God damn it Derek, if you even think about getting within thirty feet of me with that dick, I will personally castrate you,” she says on the tail end of a yell as she continues to push.

“Really Stiles, I don’t need to know about that,” Someone says in the room as well, his voice sounding fond if a little strained.

The two Winchesters look at each other and decide that they are close enough and hunker down in the small waiting room with what seems like a dozen other people. Allison walks over to another man who pulls her in close, wincing every time Stiles shouts.

There are others huddled near the wincing guy: a red head, three blondes and a black guy who seems to be the only calm one there. They all glance over at the three hunters, but look back towards the room where Stiles is yelling again.

“Who are they?” Sam asks, eyeing the group. They all look like a bunch of college kids.

“The pack,” Chris says evenly, sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs edging the walls of the waiting room.

“Oh,” Dean says, looking a little green at the noise coming from the other room.

Sam grins and elbows his brother before sitting down as well. “So, tell us about the other things happening here?”

Chris spends the next ten minutes going over everything that’s been happening from Peter Hale to the Alpha pack and to the most recent event with a Hell Hound that had gotten loose because someone had thought they could control it.

He’s interrupted by Stiles giving one final yell and then it goes silent for just a few seconds and then the sound of a baby crying fills the room and the werewolf pack seems to collapse in on itself, holding on to each other as if they were the ones having it.

It’s quiet for another few minutes and then the door opens and an older man steps out, his Sheriff’s jacket wrinkles but with the hugest grin on his face. “It’s a girl. I have a granddaughter,” he says and the werewolves crowd around him, hugging and congratulating the man.

“It looks like we’ll have to finish this conversation later,” Chris says, standing up. Sam and Dean nod, watching Argent walk over to congratulate the Sheriff who is almost in tears with joy. Deciding they’ve overstayed their welcome, the two Hunters slip out of the hospital and head back to their car. They catch up with Argent later. Sam pulls out his phone, looking up a cheap motel they can stay at as Dean pulls out of the hospital parking lot.

**End.**


End file.
